


Mother Knows Best

by bestpillowtalkever



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Jughead POV, Northside Betty, Oneshot, Southside Jughead, and they’re salty about it, because I am unable to write him any other way, bughead - Freeform, kissing but also feelings, post college, soft Jughead, they were set up by their mothers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-25 09:01:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22153480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bestpillowtalkever/pseuds/bestpillowtalkever
Summary: “Did you know that Betty won an award for her writing at graduation?” Alice asks the table at large, making it maybe the twelfth of Betty’s achievements she’s announced so far this evening. “It was for a piece she did on racial discrimination in the publishing industry.”“I can’t say I’m surprised!” my mom responds with more enthusiasm than the situation calls for. “Isn’t that something, Jug? She writes, too!”“Wow, what are the odds?” I ask sarcastically, because it’s not like writing is some rare, niche activity. We don’t even do the same kind of writing.OR: Betty and Jughead are not pleased when they realize their mothers are trying to set them up.
Relationships: Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones
Comments: 58
Kudos: 246
Collections: 7th Bughead Fanfiction Awards - Nominees





	Mother Knows Best

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this isn’t my WIP!!  
> I had this idea in my head and needed to get it out of my system. It was meant to be a drabble, but surprise! It’s a oneshot, because I have no self control.
> 
> Enjoy!

“Did you know that Betty won an award for her writing at graduation?” Alice asks the table at large, making it maybe the twelfth of Betty’s achievements she’s announced so far this evening. “It was for a piece she did on racial discrimination in the publishing industry.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised!” my mom responds with more enthusiasm than the situation calls for. “Isn’t that something, Jug? She writes, too!”

“Wow, what are the odds?” I ask sarcastically, because it’s not like writing is some rare, niche activity. We don’t even do the same kind of writing.

Betty has barely spoken unless forced to and is mostly just glaring at her mother. I don’t blame her, because I, too, am morally opposed to being set up on a date without my knowledge or consent. Plus, she’s her and I’m me, so she’s probably pissed at her mom for thinking there was a chance in hell I’d be her type. 

I’ve never actually met her before tonight, but I’d seen her around when we were in high school. She went to the fine educational institution of Riverdale High and I went to the dump that is Southside. She was kind of hard to miss around town with her blonde hair and her pretty smile and her  _ legs.  _ I’d read her articles for the Blue and Gold, which were always really good, but I was too chicken shit to just walk up and introduce myself when I saw her in Pop’s. 

I’ve also seen her a few times on the train going back and forth from the city, since she’d apparently also been attending one of the many universities in the five boroughs. You’d think at some point I would have just sat down next to her and said, “We’re obviously from the same small town and attend college in the same city, so let’s just introduce ourselves instead of pretending we don’t recognize each other when we obviously recognize each other.” But, alas, I am actually so pathetic I couldn’t even do that. 

Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine meeting her under such embarrassing circumstances.

  
  


I’m only home for the weekend at my mom’s request because she lives alone and feels entitled to guilt trip me into this sort of thing. I thought a two and a half hour train ride would put enough distance between us, but I’ve been realizing that I may need to start looking for jobs farther down the coast. Or, on another coast altogether.

The story I heard this morning was that she ran into a friend from high school last week who invited her over for dinner tonight. Since our arrival to the mythic Cooper home, I’ve been able to gather through context clues that there were ulterior motives at play. I can only assume that their conversation must have included a discussion of their alarmingly single children who both live in Brooklyn, as well as the division of a plan to set us up. 

Honestly, it’s like our mothers are presenting products on QVC.

_ “Tell them about the half marathon you ran in the spring, Betty! She just loves to run.” In the market for a wife who will keep her figure? Have I got the girl for you! _

_ “Jughead got his job offer at Rolling Stone six months before he even graduated. His benefits are better than mine!” Looking for a financially stable partner? Don’t worry, he’s employable and capable of supporting a family! _

_ “Isn't Betty’s lasagna divine? She just loves cooking!” You wanna come home to food like this every night, kid? _

Whereas I’d started the evening neutrally polite, I’ll admit that I quickly slid into hostile defiance once I’d come to this realization. I’m trying not to seem like a total asshole, but it was fairly rude to spring this on us without warning. I guess in our mothers’ defense, there’s definitely no way either one of us would have agreed to this otherwise. 

I can tell Betty’s finally gotten to the point where she’s also starting to lose her cool.

  
  


“...so, she threw a fit and  _ refused _ to do the pageant. I had to threaten to pull her out of Girl Scouts if she didn’t cooperate. She finally did, thank God, and won Little Miss Riverdale 2007 with her tap dance to, what song was it, Betty?”

“I don’t remember.” She definitely does. She just doesn’t want to say it. 

“Yes you do, what was it called? That song from High School Musical? Tip to the Tap?”

She sighs as if she’s questioning the choices that have led her to this moment. It seems to take all she has in her to admit that she performed a tap dance to-

“Bop to the Top.” She makes eye contact with me and if I had to guess what she’s thinking it would be something along the lines of,  _ I am dead inside and this evening is my personal hell.  _

“Now aren’t you happy that I made you do that pageant, Betty? I told you you’d thank me one day.” Alice is seemingly oblivious to who her daughter is as a person. 

“Thank you, mother. What ever would I do without that sash and tiara currently collecting dust in my bedroom?” 

She keeps her eyes on me as she’s talking and now she’s  _ definitely  _ trying to silently communicate that we are both on the same page in terms of our suppressed rage towards our mothers. 

We’re basically done eating and I figure we both could use an out.

“I just think it was a good opportunity for you to have experience in public speaking and performing-“

“Betty, I just remembered I told one of my friends that I’d meet him at Pop’s to catch up since I’m home,” I say to interrupt another one of Alice’s monologues. “Do you want to come along for a milkshake or something?”

All eyes at the table light up. It’s so annoying because our moms are obviously thinking that their plan worked and it kills me to give them that satisfaction. But, I figure rescuing this girl should take precedence. 

“That actually sounds great! I would love to,” Betty says as she gets up from her seat. 

“Why don’t I give Gladys a ride home so that you two can enjoy the evening?” Alice suggests, looking positively overjoyed. 

“Just don’t keep her out out  _ too  _ late!” my mom adds as we start heading out. 

“I’ll be sure to have her back at a reasonable hour,” I tell them as I put on my jacket. “Thanks for dinner, Ms. Cooper.”

“Please, call me Alice,” she says, walking us to the door. “Have fun and please  _ be safe.” _

She gives a pointed look to Betty and the implication kind of makes me want to die. She’s clearly only leaving with me to escape her mother. The very idea that she’d be into me enough to sleep with me after only really knowing each other for a few hours is wildly optimistic on Alice’s part.

“ _ Okay, mom, _ ” Betty says, looking equally horrified. 

I lead her to my mom’s sedan and open the door for her, not just because our moms are definitely watching us through the window, but mainly because our moms are definitely watching us through the window. 

I get in the driver’s side and start heading downtown. “I know this is going to come as a real shock to you, but I don’t actually need to meet a friend anywhere.”

She gasps dramatically. “How dare you lure me from my home under false pretenses?”

I can’t help but laugh. I probably laugh harder than necessary, just because it’s the first time I’ve seen her actual personality all night.

“So sorry to have ruined your lovely evening. Want me to drive you back and we can continue-“

“No!” she cuts me off. “God, no. Thank you for saving me from that nightmare.”

She looks over at me and smiles and I suddenly remember that I’m me and she’s her and we’re only together due to circumstance. She’s just too beautiful to be driving with me in this raggedy 1996 Honda Civic out of choice. 

So, I clear my throat and say, “Where would you like to go? I don’t know if you have any friends in town you’d want to visit. I can just drop you off and then come get you after an acceptable amount of time has passed.”

“Oh!” she says sounding surprised. “Well, uh, none of my close friends have moved back to town. Maybe you could just drop me off at the library or something?”

The way she says it makes me feel like I’ve made a mistake, so I start backtracking. “I mean, unless you do want to come to Pop’s with me?”

“Would you mind? You don’t have to give me a pity invite. You can totally drop me off at the library if you’d rather-“

“No,” I say before she can finish her sentence. “I’d rather you come with me.”

“Yeah?” she asks and I can tell she’s smiling without even needing to look over at her. But, I do anyway and she totally  _ is  _ smiling. 

“Yeah.” And now I’m smiling too, which isn’t exactly on brand for me. I guess it doesn’t really matter since we’ll probably go back to our previous arrangement of pretending we don’t recognize each other in public after tonight.

  
  


The bell chimes, marking our entrance into Pop’s, and I realize that I am living in some wild alternate reality where I’m kind of on a date here with Betty Cooper. I take a minute to think about how absolutely delighted the sixteen-year-old version of myself would be with this development. Not that I’m not delighted  _ now,  _ but I’ve come a long way from the weirdo loner I once was. This really would have blown his mind.

“Well, isn’t it nice to see you two in town!” Pop says as he looks between us. If he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it. 

“It’s always nice to come for a visit,” Betty tells him, which is objectively false, but Pop’s really is the only place worth making a trip here for. 

We sit at a booth and look at menus. I know what I want. I’m 99% sure she knows what she wants. But, we stare at them regardless, as they are the only thing keeping us from drowning in awkward silence. 

The waitress takes our orders. She strips us of our menus and I have no choice but to initiate a conversation. Not that I  _ don’t  _ want to talk to her, I just hate how she’s making me feel all weird and nervous because I usually don’t give a shit what people think about me. But, for some reason I really give a shit what this girl thinks about me.

“So, I hear you made the Dean’s List every semester except for one while you were in college,” I say, recalling her mother’s words. “Please tell me what kind of bacchanalian hell raising you were partaking in  _ that  _ semester.”

She laughs and it doesn’t sound like the polite giggle that girls give to guys when they tell a joke that isn’t funny. It makes me stupidly happy.

“Okay, my mom will seriously never let me forget about that. It was the spring semester of my sophomore year and I had this really difficult chemistry class-“

“Ugh,  _ chemistry.  _ Say no more,” I tell her. 

“I’m so sorry about my mom,” she says very seriously. As if it’s something she needs to apologize to me for. “I spend as little time with her as I can get away with. I’m sorry you got stuck with us for the night.”

“You don’t need to apologize. My mom is equally to blame. They were both really laying it on thick tonight. God,” I say, shaking my head, “they are probably really proud of themselves right now.”

“I  _ know, _ ” she responds with enthusiastic agreement. “I hate that they think they’ve succeeded. It’s so annoying, but apparently not annoying enough to have stopped me from escaping with you.”

“I was thinking the same thing.”

We smile at each other and she’s so beautiful. I get a sort of sad pang thinking about how this night will be one of those nights that I lay in bed and think about when I’m feeling lonely and sorry for myself, trying to remember just what she looked like and all of the things that she said. 

“So, tell me about yourself,” she says. “Not the things that your mom thinks will impress me. Tell me the real stuff.”

So, I do. I tell her what I like about my job and the things that suck about my job. She tells me how much she hates the job she has with some online magazine and that she’s already looking for a new one. We talk about the things that we love and don’t love about living in the city. We reminisce about college and compare experiences. 

“I remember you from high school, you know.” She says it after we’ve finished our milkshakes. It’s getting late and we’ve paid our bill and yet we’re both still glued to our seats. 

“I was pretty recognizable as the weirdo with the stupid hat.” It’s her one drawback. She actually knows what I was like in high school. One of the best things about moving away from here had been starting fresh with people who didn’t know me.

“I liked your hat. I remember you’d camp out in that back booth and type away on your laptop. I always wanted to ask you what you were working on.” 

“Why didn’t you? You probably would have made my day.” She probably thinks I’m saying it to be polite. I’m not. It’s very true.

“Oh, well,” she laughs before continuing. “This is kind of embarrassing, but I guess it doesn’t matter now. I always kind of thought you were cute. But, you had that brooding vibe and the whole Serpent thing. I was just too intimidated to talk to you.”

I stare at her as my life flashes before my eyes and if I had any ability to make a time machine, the only thing I’d use it for would be to go back five years and just kick myself right in the shin.

“Betty Cooper, you thought I was cute?”

She laughs and maybe she thinks I’m just trying to be funny, but she’s genuinely rocking my world right now. “Oh, stop. Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Betty, I read all of your Blue and Gold articles online. You always had the most compelling stories that were so well-written. I saw you in here with your friends all the time and I thought you were…,”  _ the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen _ , “cute, too. I’d always wished I had the balls to talk to you.”

She stops laughing and looks at me. “Yeah?” she asks, looking almost hopeful. 

“Yeah.”

“Do you… do you wanna get out of here?” she asks in a way that suggests she wants to go somewhere  _ else. Together.  _

“Yup,” I say with conviction and I’m already sliding out of the booth. 

I grab her hand as she stands up and lead her out of the diner. 

“Bye, kids!” Pop calls after us. 

“Bye!” we say in unison as the door shuts behind us. 

  
  


We get in the car and I realize that I have no idea where to take her. If we were in the city, we’d obviously have our apartments to go to. Or, like a zillion other places that are open past 8pm. I’m dangerously close to suggesting we get a hotel room, but I know it’s actually the last thing I want to do. If there is any chance she’d want to go out with me again, I’m not about to fuck that up by turning this into a one night stand. 

“Where to, Miss?” It’s probably the cheesiest thing I could have said and I hate myself for it. 

“Well, I don’t actually know. It feels like we’re in high school again with very limited freedom.”

I laugh because it’s so true. This whole night has felt like a weird high school time warp. 

“Would you judge me if I took you to the river?” It was (and probably still is) a classic make out spot for the youth of Riverdale. 

She looks like she’s trying to hold back a smile. “Not at all.”

So, I drive her to Sweetwater River and park in the most remote spot I can find.

“I would say this brings back memories, but I’ve never actually been brought here in this context before,” she tells me.

_ And what context might that be? _ is the first thing that comes to mind, but I don’t say it because it sounds incredibly douchey. 

“Yeah, me neither,” I say instead. 

“Really?” she asks, sounding surprised. 

“Of course not. When did you ever see me with a girl?”

“I saw you with Southside girls! What about that one with the pink hair?”

“Toni? We were never a thing.”

“Hm,” is all she says in response. 

“Well, what about you? Didn’t any of those football players ask you out?”

“What? No way,” she says.

“Really?” It is actually really hard to believe that she didn’t get asked out a lot. I could totally see her shooting most guys down, but I’m sure they asked. 

“No, I was a total nerd. I was in honors classes and ran the newspaper and joined  _ councils  _ and  _ committees _ and-“

“And you were a cheerleader,” I finish, because I very distinctly remember the uniform.

“How do you even know that? I never saw you at the football games.”

“You looked for me at the football games?” I’m smiling like an idiot and I can’t even help it. 

“No! I mean, I just never noticed you there. It’s not like I was looking for you in particular, it’s just if you had been there-“

“It’s okay, Betty. You can admit that you looked for me at the football games.”

She’s smiling again as she says, “I looked for you at the football games.”

I immediately kiss her because how could I not? I should have done this years ago.

It’s kind of awkward leaning over the center console, which feels totally on theme for the high school vibe of the evening. I bring my hands to her face and neck, pulling her towards me as hers card through my hair. 

It only lasts for a few moments before she climbs over the center console to straddle my lap. I slide the seat back, so that she has more room with the steering wheel behind her. 

She pulls away for a moment with a big smile on her face. “I can’t believe we’re twenty three years old, making out in your mom’s car at Sweetwater River.”

I laugh and she laughs and it’s such a good fucking moment. 

“Well, I can’t believe I’m twenty three years old, making out with  _ Betty Cooper  _ in my mom’s car at Sweetwater River _. _ ”

“You play your cards right and maybe Betty Cooper will let you take this to the back seat.” She bounces her eyebrows and I start kissing her again. 

It’s different than how I’d imagined it would be. Betty always seemed so sweet and shy, but she is very much not right now as she grinds on my lap and works her mouth down my neck. 

I like this Betty. I am actually really into this Betty. 

I realize that as much as I thought I knew her, I really don’t know her much at all. Just like I’d been worried about her judging me based on the high school version of me, here I am doing the same thing to her. 

“What’s wrong?” she asks, because I was just lost in thought like an idiot instead of being present and actually enjoying the goddess in my lap. 

“Sorry, I was just thinking about something,” I tell her as I lean in to start kissing her again. 

“Oh, am I not holding your attention, Mr. Jones?” she asks teasingly. 

“ _ No _ , it’s just-“ 

I stop speaking because she takes her top off and tosses it on the passenger seat. 

“ _ Betty, _ ” is all I can manage as I run my eyes over her figure in her lacy black bra that will forever be burned into my memory. 

“You just going to look? Or…” she’s sexy and coy and a billion times better than the one-dimensional version of her from my imagination. 

“Hell, no,” I say, diving in to take advantage of this priceless opportunity. 

I start kissing neck and ear, working down her chest. I’m about to unclasp her bra with a lot more confidence than I would have at sixteen, when a light is suddenly shining through my window.

“ _ Shit, _ ” I say as the person outside raps on the glass.

Betty flies out of my lap and scrambles back into the passenger seat. I wait a moment for her to get her shirt back on, then roll down the window. 

“What are you kids doing out here?” the officer asks, shining his light to inspect the interior of the car. After looking us over he asks, “Aren’t you two a little old for this?”

“Well,...” I start, with no idea what I could say to explain this situation.  _ You see, the fates have blessed me in such a way that I have this magnificent girl in my car, willing to take her clothes off in my presence. We have nowhere else to go, as we are both staying with our meddling mothers. You have probably the world’s most unfortunate timing and have interrupted what would have surely been one of my most memorable life experiences.  _

As I’m trying to think of what I could  _ actually  _ say, Betty starts laughing. Then, she starts laughing harder, until she’s doubled over and her eyes are rimmed with tears. “I’m sorry, it’s just so…” She is unable to finish her sentence due to her laughter.

I have no choice but to start laughing, too, because this whole thing is kind of absurd. I turn to the officer and try again to explain. “I’m sorry, we were just-“

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, cutting me off. He looks like he is trying to hold back a smile as well. “Just get on your way and stay out of trouble.”

He leaves with a nod as I roll up the window and start driving away. 

Betty’s laughter is trailing off and she’s wiping the tears from her eyes. “Oh my  _ God,  _ I can’t believe that just happened.”

“Seriously. That was remarkably poor timing.”

“It really was,” she agrees.

I’m not sure what else to say. The night is effectively over, since it’s late and there’s nowhere to go but home. 

Is this it? Are we done now? Like, a fun adventure down memory lane since we’re bored in our hometown? Is this all we’ll ever get? A night cut short by a nosy police officer?

“Thank you for tonight, Jughead,” she says as we pull up to her house. “It started out terrible, but it ended up being really good because of you.” 

“ _ Really _ good?” 

“Yes.  _ Really, really  _ good.” I look at her and she’s biting her bottom lip, looking like she’s as unsure as I am. 

“Like, good enough to do it again sometime?” I have to ask. I’m not an awkward teenager anymore. I’m a man, dammit. And I am capable of asking a girl on a date, even if it means the possibility of crushing rejection. I can handle it.

(Probably.)

“You mean, you want to get caught making out in public again? Or,...” 

She’s smiling like she’s going to say yes to my next question and I try not to get my hopes up, but they seem to be going up anyway.

“Will you go out with me? When we get back to the city?” My heart is pounding and it’s the moment of truth and I hate everything that I’ve become. Seriously, when did I get like this?

“Well, I was actually thinking…” she starts as I brace myself for some kind of rejection. “You’re heading back down tomorrow, right? Would you want to drive to the train station together?”

“With my mom or yours?” I ask. 

“Definitely yours,” she says.

“Okay, good, I was thinking the same thing,” I tell her and she laughs. 

“So, maybe we could get dinner or something tomorrow after we get back?” she suggests.

“Yes. Definitely,” I respond with an embarrassing amount of enthusiasm.

She looks towards her house and sighs. “My mom is watching us through the blinds.”

“How remarkably unsurprising,” I say, because it is. 

“Thanks again for tonight,” she says as she unbuckles her seatbelt. “We should have done this years ago.”

“I’m glad we didn’t,” I tell her, and she looks confused. “Because, then we might not be doing it now.”

I immediately panic, thinking that was way too intense to say after a first date. But, then she smiles and says, “You’re right. I’d rather do it now. Now is better.”

Come to think of it, I am pretty smooth. 

“You know, I would walk you to your door, but I don’t really want to give your mom the satisfaction,” I tell her. 

“ _ Don’t, _ ” she says. “She can never know that her plan worked.”

“Yes. Any romantic interludes shall henceforth be top secret.”

“Top secret,” she says, nodding in agreement. 

“Well, I’d kiss you again, but…” 

“That would not be very top secret of you,” she finishes. “It’s okay. I appreciate the sentiment, anyway.

“I’ll make it up to you tomorrow? After dinner?” I ask, sounding pitifully hopeful. 

“Or, maybe before dinner?” she proposes. 

“On the train?” I counter. 

“The train it is.”

“The train it is,” I repeat, smiling like the idiot that I am. 

“Well… I guess I should go in now,” she says, not sounding too excited about the prospect.

“If we take any longer, you’ll blow our cover.”

She laughs. “Okay, well, goodnight then,” she says opening her door.

“Goodnight, Betty. See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow,” she says, as she gets out and shuts the door. 

I watch her walk up the steps to her house. As she opens her door, she turns and gives me one last wave before shutting it behind her. 

I’ll be honest, I sit and stare at it for a while before heading home, basking in the glow of all that is Betty Cooper.

  
  


I walk into our trailer and hang my mom’s keys on the hook. 

“How was your date?” she calls from the couch. 

“It wasn’t a  _ date, _ ” I say, even though it definitely was.

“Uh, huh. Then why don’t you tell me what’s got you looking so happy?” 

I realize that I’m still smiling and then I realize I’m so happy I can’t even get myself to stop smiling. It’s a truly horrifying predicament. 

“Oh, it was just-“

“You’re welcome, Jughead,” she says as she shuts off the lights.

“Thanks, mom,” I say before she kisses the side of my face and heads off to bed.

  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Tumble with me @bugheadsextape


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